Mistress Candle's Debt
by Lazaruss
Summary: Events of the Throne of Bhaal have long since been concluded and it is time of relative peace throughout the Realms. It is a perfect time to take on the Cowl Wizards.
1. Chapter 1a Cats

**Mistress Candle's Debt**

Lazaruss : "_Hello again my friends. It's been far too long, and finally I've succumbed to my Writer's itch yet again. This time I bring you a Baldur's Gate Fanfiction. This story takes place well after the Throne of Bhall, after the saga of Bhallspawns was resolved, one way or another. I'd like to point out that I did not play Baldur's Gate 3 so don't expect this story to be consistent with what happened there. I have however read a few books of the Dark Elf Saga. Also, influenced by my Wheel Of Time fascination, I will go a bit more in depth about the nature of Magic in the Forgotten Realms. _

_This is a fan-based fictional story. All the characters belong to their respected creators, even those I've borrowed from unofficial patches at spellholdarchives. Enjoy._ "

* * *

**Chapter 1.a ; Cats**

In the distance, Atticus could hear the angry screeching of cats in a fight. Bloody beasts would always grow too loud at this time of year. A small fortune that, for it was to his advantage.

The night was clear and the light of the moon made street lanterns hardly necessary, yet here in these dark alleys of Harbor District darkness dominated his surroundings. One last lone lantern was remaining, but Atticus was now ready to put it out. He felt safe enough to do that.

Puddles from recent rain did not affect the smell of rotting garbage and urine in any good way. The whole place reeked like a drunken bum. He himself thought he might've hurled if he hadn't possess the benefits of his training. After this though, if he'd manage to live through this, he would have his current robes burned and stay as far away from the flames just in case the smoke would embrace the memory of his tonight's exploit.

That was for later though.

First, he calmed his mind, emptying it of all things. It was surprising how swiftly it came to him now, compared to how difficult it used to be in the past. Decades of practice could overcome even the impossible. Thought became something trivial in his mind as he detached himself from the outside world and took hold of the magic around him.

Each Mage had his own technique. Some would imagine themselves in the center of a whirlpool of energy, which constantly flushed them with power. Others would view it like a river contracting and compressing into a single stream before flowing into them. He however imagined dozens of tiny strands of light shifting, making up the space around his distant body, separating from their normal flow, changing direction and diverting into him. And magic filled him like water filling an empty vessel.

Not too much. Just a fraction of his capacity. This was well below his standards, and it too could cost him his life. How humiliating it was that a mage of his Stature was reduced to these simple tricks.

With focus, honed and disciplined, he directed the magic towards the flame of the lone lantern. He guided that flow mentally into arcane runes of water, surrounding the flame on four sides, and softly muttering each rune as it was completed. To his eyes, a line of runes made of a single flow of magic created a closed ring around the flame, and he joined the two ends of the flow together. Instantly, the ring of text sparked to life with the strength of direction and it smothered the lantern flame as swiftly as a cup of water would. The entire process lasted for less than ten seconds, but fear made Atticus swiftly release his hold of magic.

Darkness truly did dominate the ally now. The buildings around him were tall, obscuring moonlight, and windows, even if they held light, were well darkened. People in this part of the city preferred their privacy. Even the paint on the walls was dark and bleak making the buildings indistinct from one another.

He leaned against the wall, allowing himself a small breath of respite. A pray. No. He did not study the mystic arts for the past forty seasons, a lifetime of denial and commitment, just to end up being a pray now. And certainly not to a bunch of fanatical hypocrites. Even Red Wizards of Thay seemed down right courteous compared to this lot.

Calming himself, he examined his options ; He could perhaps go down into the sewers and leave the city in that fashion. Surely, they did not smell much worse than this alley, but the clever bastards would have cut off that route by now. Maybe he could ask someone for help. Escaping the city was, of course, his sole option, but, he grudgingly admitted, it would not happen tonight. He was wealthy enough to procure a hiding place in a nearby house. For a few hours. To get his bearings. And the locals would no doubt leap at the opportunity of gold on the spot.

He looked down on himself. No. No one would welcome a desperate mage on the run. Not for any amount of gold. And it would be too obvious to anyone that he was a mage, in his fine green robes, frail form and graying hair, and those deep set eyes, worn off from reading scrolls and reddened by potion fumes… He'd have to find a very greedy person, willing to risk dealing with him. And even then, such a man would stab him in the back the moment someone would make a better offer.

The ring of pursuers was closing too tightly around him. What's more, they had some method of tracking him which he could not divulge. He never thought of himself a coward, yet he was honestly afraid right now.

A sound came to him from the back of the alley and light of a gateway invaded his hiding place, banishing all the silken blackness he had woven so meticulously. Atticus cursed before darting to the side, barely avoiding a bar of solid fire which shot from the portal, engulfing in flames the place he had been occupying but a short time ago.

He ran. Angry shouts followed him back to the streets and into the light, with no shadows to hide in. Then he ran even faster. Exposed. On the opened. Briefly he considered jumping off into the sea and taking his chances there, but he feared that they might encase him in ice if he did that. A large cluster of shipping crates stood on both sides of this street, but they were not enough of a cover to hide behind. A mouse chased by a pack of cats. Again he heard those cats – bloody beasts – screeching in the alley. Cats did not hunt in packs, he thought as he ran. Funny how ridiculous thoughts often came unwanted in times of desperation.

Despair welled up in him ; he would not be able to evade them again. They would corner him soon and then… then it would end.

Something else occurred to him then and he darted away before another blast of destructive magic barely missed him again. Few more followed, but he was already in the alley, running towards that loud screeching. Using only minute amounts of magic was no longer his restriction and he swiftly filled himself with all the power he could grasp, and then some. He had only one chance at this and he had to make it count.

This alley was much more appealing than the last, even though a huge pile of garbage stood leaning on a dark damp wooden wall of a large shack. The smell was much better too. But it was a dead end. Escaping by portal was denied to him, but no rule of magic was fixed. He could not escape through a portal, but someone else could. Possibly. It was the nature of that which was called magic ; everything about it was flexible and opened to interpretation. Imagination and ingenuity were the best tools of a good wizard.

On top of the heap of garbage, a pair of striped cats stood towards each other, engaged in a staring contest. Angry sounds rose from their furious little bodies, as fur on their back stood on its end. No time for niceties. He placed a spell on the nearest cat, to keep her calm before grabbing her away. Even so, the other managed to claw a few of his fingers, aiming for the first cat. He cursed at the pain. No doubt it'd get infected.

Locking the cat with his gaze, he frantically placed a few more spells upon it. He was so distraught that he'd almost botched the whole thing, but somehow his design did not fall apart. The cat would be his carrier pigeon now, and would find him help. It would also be able to find him again wherever he'd go. Or be taken to. Gods send that help arrives in time.

He readied to open a portal and toss the cat through – many of his friends were up in the north and they would come to his aid – but before he managed, a large bubble of energy encased him like a fish in a tank. Utter horror passed through him as he tried slamming his will against it in a futile hope of breaking through only to have it bounce back in a painful jolt.

Behind him, a grinning winded mage in a gray hooded robe approached. The hood hid his eyes, but that grin almost glowed underneath the rim of his cowl. Two more wizards approached behind him. One was a she, in identical robes, but the third was not. This man looked more like a thief than a mage, except that Atticus could sense magic in him. He had on a black fez and a rough leather vest and baggy trousers of rough white cloth like a sailor of sorts. And around his neck was a strange talisman, a small clear crystal sphere on a chain which glowed with an inner light.

In moments Atticus was surrounded by them. The cat was out of his hands, coming to, scratching and hissing at the walls of the magical prison which it now shared with him. His company in his cell. Atticus laughed, sagging to his knees. He had missed his chance. His one chance, and he blew it. Maybe it was better this way. He was not fit to be a mage anyway.

One of the three – he did not see which one, but it did not matter at that point – landed a blow on his head in the moment that first cracks appeared on the surface of the bubble, and the last thing he heard before his mind faded was the sound of shattering glass.


	2. Chapter 1b Cats

**Chapter 2.b : Cats**

* * *

Deep within the Warens underneath the Three Stags inn, a frightened man darted his eyes back and forth. He was short and fat, but up until recently he had enjoyed many privileges. And now he was stripped bare of them.

Candle regarded him. Mistress Candle, head of the largest thief's guild south of Neverwinter. And today she felt very foolish indeed.

" You've killed a man Hark. " She said. There was no cheer in her voice. People who knew her best knew to keep quiet and walk small when her usual good mood grew darkened.

" I… " Hark muttered. He was on his knees in his beggar's disguise, with a knife at his belt. The beard, waxed to his face was a nice touch. " I… I… It was often done back… "

" I don't care !" She bared her teeth in a tight grimace, speaking the words slowly and hard like nails. " How it was done back in Amn. It was made clear to you. Time and Again. No killing. Not unless you-have-no-other-choice. "

Hark whimpered something but Candle did not listen. She was in fact considering turning him into a weasel and keeping him in a two by two foot cage for the rest of his weasel days. A good thief did not need to kill. Did not kill. Fools and monsters killed. And she detested killing, more than ether of her underlings could ever imagine. The man who died at Hark's hands tonight was a mean one. He was a minor lord who thought he was too big for his ugly head, but even so, she did not wished him dead. She did not work that way.

The trouble was that Hark had been highly recommended by Roenal Bloodscalp himself. It was a part of the fragile alliance between thieves' guilds of various domains. They would exchange men on occasion much like countries shared ambassadors. No, not ambassadors. Spies. But it was all part of the game.

The chambers they were in were red and pink and black. There were a lot of candles there, but there was also a lot of shadows to hide in. Exotic paintings decorated the walls, beautiful statues of white marble occupied the corners, and there was even a gold worked pool of water filled with floating lilies imported from the Pearl Islands. Exotic fruit and old vine occupied tables, and also a large king-sized bed with pink silken sheets.

She was grudgingly admitting she rather enjoyed the luxury. After all she had been through, it was more than welcomed, but she still felt a bit guilty about having so much when others had so little. One had to keep appearances for the sake of the game, though.

The game. She loved the game. The small subtle flows, like music in the air composed by a master player. Her guild was a gathering of honest crooks, a decent sort of rats and ferrets. Men, women and even children, whom you could gamble with safely, without the fear of them knifing you if the game did not end with them scooping the loot. Ever since founding the guild, she had spent a considerable amount of time to find only those kind of people, and even more effort to make sure they knew how she wanted things to run in her organization. She saw them all as her responsibility. Orphans in her ranks had assigned tutors to teach them how to read and write and even do math for two hours a day. Most of them did not like that one bit, but she had her ways of herding them to their respected classes. After all, she herself had been on a receiving end of those treatments many times, but she had never envisioned them being quite so… effective.

She went through extreme lengths to ensure that all members of her organization shared in fair portion of equal shares. For most part, men and women were treated equally, with only their achievements or mistakes as distinction between them. And troublemakers… well… she knew how to deal with those.

Putting distractions out of her mind, she glared back at the unfortunate Hark. Unfortunate, for she had to make an example out of him for her guild to see, but not harsh enough for Roenal Bloodscalp to take offense. As if sensing her thoughts, Hark swallowed and his eyes darted to the guardian by her door. He thought she'd set Bob loose on him.

" By this time tomorrow, every officer, soldier and city crier within a hundred miles is going to know how you look like and what you did, Hark. " She spoke coldly. He wanted to back away but couldn't. Good. " I'll make sure that they do. And I'll make sure that it spreads as far and fast as I can spread it. You'll never set foot in my domains again, or I'll bundle you up and hand you to the garrison myself. Now get out of my sight. "

Hark scrambled to his feet and ran past Bob as fast as his legs would carry him. He was still too relieved to understand just how difficult it would be to return home to Athkathla without being arrested, and was just happy to leave with his life and on his own two legs. And if he did get arrested, than it'd be his own fault. She wagered it wouldn't come to that, though. Roenal himself had vouched for his skills in the trade, and that could go very far indeed. Even so, she intended to make things as complicated as she could for Mr. Hark. It was the least that he deserved.

Candle turned away and came to her writing desk. Her shoulder-long pinkish hair was now wrapped in a towel to dry after a warm bath, and she was in a dark purple robe of warm wool which went well with the curves of her petite body.

This was a mess. She had hoped that she'd be able to dedicate herself to Chloe tonight, but she had to move fast to smooth over the damage that Hark's murder had wrought. Roenal had to be informed and assured that the blame for this was entirely Hark's. And the local garrison would no doubt come knocking by the morning. She had an arrangement of sorts with them, where they would look the other way for her associates, but even they could not overlook murder. Gods, what a mess.

" I've never liked him myself. " Chloe said, entering her chambers through one of the many hidden passages. Candle looked up, brightening up for her. She was beautiful, muscular and well-built with a spray of rust-colored hair branching off in every direction. She was a lioness of battle, and a flower of knowledge, something Candle appreciated. Chloe's facial tattoos would put off most, but she wore them proudly in the tradition of her people. And those deep blue eyes, and those perfect lips… Water rushed to Candle's mouth at the sight of her, like she was some exotic dish waiting to be tasted.

It was then that Candle noticed a cat in Chloe's hands, a rather cuddly, yet filthy thing, with stripes in her fur almost concealed by layers of dust and dirt. Bob made no reaction, remaining silent as he often did. Despite all her efforts to grant him some measure of intelligence, he simply did not want to acknowledge anything but direct commands.

" We will get through it. " She said, turning back to her writing. " I must make sure that the good Captain understands we had no ties to Hark. "

" He'll not take your gold this time. " Chloe said, stretching herself elaborately over a large comfortable bead and making full use of the pink silk sheets. She had a way of doing that that was most distracting. " He does put up with you, but inside, he is an honest man. As honest as they come. "

" And cleaver. " Candle spoke, trying to ignore the other woman's legs and what they were doing in the air. Chloe had already removed her boots, and her stockings were making a most wonderful display as she slowly slipped them off. " He knows that I am as much a part of the order as he is. He does not wish to deal with the chaos that would erupt without me. Besides… " she smiled, feeling quite impish. " … he knows he is not big enough to handle me. "

Chloe chuckled. " He's only a man after all. " By the door, Bob said something which sounded like a distant landslide. Had that been a remark on Chloe's words ? " So, am I to assume that you'll be busy tonight ?"

" Sorry Chloe. " She said. " I need to move swiftly to make sure we dodge this arrow. The man Hark killed was a bastard, but he was an influential one. "

The woman on the bed made an exasperated sound but made no other comment. She knew well the bonds of duty towards others. Candle could understand her, but she worried for her. Chloe was not happy with the life in the guild. She was not a thief but a Kensai, a warrior. She belonged on the road, not under ground, training thieves and counting coins. And Candle promised herself to provide it for her soon. Not for the fear of leaving her – Chloe would never do that – but because she loved her fiercely.

Unbidden and unwanted, as they often were, the cat Chloe brought in jumped on the writing table and sat down right on top of Candle's fresh parchment.

She frowned at the animal. " I suppose you think you're rather charming. "

" Me ?" Chloe asked from the bed.

" You too. But I was talking to your new best friend. Where did you find her ?"

" What makes you think it's a girl cat ?"

" Because she managed to seduce _you_. " Candle grinned, then made a face as if she was insulted. " And I must say I'm rather cross with you ; trying to make me jealous like that. Shame on you. "

" Oh. " Chloe said. " I'll be more careful next time then. " Those lushes lips of hers curved in a smile around a strawberry dipped in powdered sugar. So sweet…

Candle made a kiss at her then moved to remove the cat from her writing…

… and froze as she felt a powerful magic surge from the cat, through her hand and into her mind, like a jolt. Fear, despair, exhaustion. Rather than fighting the flow, and jerking back, she embraced it, channeled it, and brought it under control. She allowed only a sliver of it pass as if tasting a sip of vine to sample the vintage. It was more potent than what she would usually come across, but not so much because of the skill of the mage who cast the spell, rather then the emotions that went into the act.

It was a message.

Calling on her own magical abilities, she looked deep into the cat's eyes and gently unraveled the layers of the spell which the creature bore. Pulling the last of the strings free, she opened the cat's mind and found a single short memory tucked away inside of it.

An old man in a green robe, besieged. Surrounded and overwhelmed. Brought down in indignation and disgrace. The terror, the injustice and the futility of his efforts. He had done nothing wrong, and they would destroy him for it, unless she helped him.

She let go of the cat, feeling the aftermath of the painful emotions which flooded the message. But stronger than that, she felt anger. The one who had sent her this message, the man in the memory, was not known to her, but his pursuers were a different matter. It seemed Chloe would get a chance to stretch her feet after all.

" Chloe, dear. " She said, her voice determined and excited. " pack your bags, and sharpen your blades. "

Chloe frowned at her from the bed as Candle placed the cat back on the floor. The purpose of the spell was done and the animal could go its own way now. " What is wrong ? I've checked the thing for flees. She's clean. "

" No. Not clean by a long shot. She was carrying an I.O.U. on her. " Candle spoke quietly. " We are going to go and settle an old score with the Cowl Wizards. "

* * *

Lazaruss : "_If you haven't realized it by now, Candle, the head of the thieves' guild, is Immoen. Chloe is a fan-made character from one of many unofficial BG mods you can find at spellholdarchives website, and yes, they do end up as a couple during the game. I hope her creator won't mind me putting her into my story._"


	3. Chapter 2a The Journey South

**Chapter 2.a ; The journey south**

* * *

Dealing with the consequences of Hark's actions was more difficult than it was planned. The victim of his knife had been one Doslar Mellan, a petty, greedy little man who backstabbed, bribed and wriggled his way into power. He'd also been involved in many shady business deals and all of his associates had to be assured that Hark had actually been a thief, and not some assassin. Gods forbid, this could have been the first action of a war if it'd turned out someone wanted to upset the balance of power in the local underworld by eliminating Doslar and laying the blame elsewhere.

Nathaniel Commar, the Captain of the local police force knew that as well. Candle met him under controlled circumstances, which is to say, he was brought to the place of her choosing with his men disposed of at that moment. She kept her face in the shadows as she explained to him the nature of things, giving a sack load of evidence he could use to track Hark down. Some of it was real, like a rather detailed list of Hark's contacts in the area. Much of her sleep hours went into gathering those. The other things… they were there just to spice up the matter more, linking Hark to some other reckless crimes, making him more appealing and believable target for any grievances.

The Captain did not trust her of course, and their conversation turned to argument sooner than she'd hoped. He did leave with the documents though, so that was a good thing. On the other hand, he vowed to make her pay, laying Doslar's death at her feet. She'd always known him to be a smart one. If he did manage to capture Hark, she'd have to do something about it. She did not want to give anyone the chance to ask Hark the wrong kind of questions. That could be dangerous. Even for her.

The Captain too had magical means at his disposal, but, thankfully, his network of eyes and ears was not that sophisticated. And she had twelve hours of headstart on him. Not to mention that she knew which way Hark would flee, something that was not in the bag he strolled off with.

Next, Doslar's business associates had to be appeased, a no easy task to convince someone who trusted no one to begin with. A considerable amount of gold from her coffers went into that. Not that Doslar was associated with many of the mighty ; it was the fact that on many occasions Candle's people used to pay visits to men Doslar worked with, and they in turn weren't exactly eager to trust the word of someone who'd robbed them several times before. She had to pay them back with interest to relieve their suspicions. Greedy bastards. She would have been pissed if she did not make sure that the gold she gave them back was laced with a few nasty magical surprises.

The gaps in all of the above were filled with some minor bribes, and a few charm spells. She did the latter herself, just to make sure no traces were left and the thing was done right. Of course, she could safely claim that no one in her entire domain possessed the skill to match when it came to spells. Hell, few people in whole of Feirun did.

In the end though, she felt the dust would settle. Hark would have a hell of a time slipping out, and once he did, it would only lead him into Roenal's claws. The letter she'd dispatched to Athkathla would make sure of that. And then, Mr. Hark would find himself thinking that perhaps being arrested was not such a bad option after all. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak.

She *tsked* to herself, as she packed her traveling bags. Letting Roenal himself deal with Hark was a good move, though cruel one. To let the Shadow Thief leader dispense justice as he saw fit. It would go a long way towards ensuring him that there was no ill blood between the two of them. She also made herself feel sympathy for Hark. It was not easy, but she summoned the emotion. Who'd knew what fate awaited him home in his guild. Roenal might even kill him. But at least, that would make him choose his next ambassador to send her a bit more wisely.

The price was high, but all in all, the thing would resolve and the dust would settle. In a few days. Maybe a week. Everyone in her guild had orders to lay low until then. She wanted the Captain focused on Hark alone, not suddenly deciding to take interest in one of her other operations. And those were really the thing that was the biggest loss ; all the plans and schemes that were set in motion, weeks and even months of careful planning had to be put to a halt. That was the real price she had to pay for the safety of her people. Bloody Hark. She should have turned him into a weasel.

She closed the bag full of rings, potions, amulets, daggers and other enchanted items she had collected back in the day. Memories came with each and every one of those items, not all of them bad. The success, the triumph, the victory… Life today seemed so simple in comparison. People were simple, regardless of their number, compared to sheer monstrosity of what she had to deal with back then. Hey, the more the merrier. But while her mind was already made up and determined to deal with these shadows from her past, she had a queasy feeling in her stomach which objected.

Against all reason, she knew she would not like taking her revenge upon the Cowls, and she feared that she would regret it at some point. She had never been a fan of vengeance. In fact, she was terrified of it, of what it could do to people, to her, now. _You're not a Bhaalspawn any longer_. She told herself. But it did not do much good. One did not need to be a spawn of an evil God to be seduced by sweetness of evil deeds. She shook and continued packing.

Just about every item she had on was imbued by powerful magic. Candle was in her black leather armor with dark pink clothing underneath. It obstructed the flow of magic and made it difficult to cast spells, but the last thing she wanted was to show up in Athkathla in a mage's robe. Her cloak and boots were black and light like spider's silk, aiding in her stealth abilities, and the hood of the cloak was draped flatly over her back.

It had been a while, but she also pulled out Saspenar's quiver of arrows, and Cromwell's bow of thunder and donned them on too. She tested the bowstring with her thumb, feeling the energy of the storm it held within it. It hadn't aged a day. On her finger, there was a small skeletal claw which dug into her flesh, gripping it like a tight ring, feeding on drops of her blood. She had forgotten how uncomfortable the thing had been to wear, but it made her form blurry, almost impossible to hit from afar. That and a few other rings and amulets which sharpened perception and observation, completed her arsenal, enhancing her thieving skills.

She of course had a lot more of those things then she could have worn - especially spellcasting bubbles and trinkets - but instead, she had decided to enter the city this way and take those out at a later time.

Eventually, there was only one thing left to pack. " Ok Bob, it's your turn now. " she said taking out a small and rather ugly looking red book. As she did she turned towards him.

Bob still stood by the door, his head almost brushing the ceiling. The huge Iron Golem looked down at her and rumbled something in his throat which didn't mean… anything, really. It had been her feeble attempt to give him some kind of a voice and make him more alive than a mound of iron should have been. Frustrating and embarrassing really.

" Oh, come on now. " she said with scorn " Into the book. Chop chop. You should be grateful that I'm carrying you around, anyway. Do you know many other golems that can be packed up and carried in a pocket ?"

Bob rumbled again, then made two small earthquakes with his steps, and finally went to sleep between the pages of the Tome of Golems until she'd summon him next. The transition was short but not instant. For a split second Bob's entire monstrous form turned into a kind of misty, dull-gray, cloud of iron dust before poring itself into the opened surface of the book as if into a container of sorts. She waited until the last trace of him was inside, then flipped the book with one hand and tucked it into a pocket on her cloak just below the shoulder.

Her second in command, Sue, a surprisingly plump woman, entered at that point. Sue did not talk much and did not ask many questions. It was a quality few others possessed. Strangely she was an Elf, with long blue hair – not blond but blue of all things – with two brides of it hanging down the front of her chest, and wearing a red dress and a white apron. She was not fat like some innkeeper or someone's aunt for instance, but it was just strange to see such a shape on an Elf. However, she had a heart of gold, Sue did. She was the head of the management within the Warrens and was making sure that everything would run swiftly and efficiently, that everyone had something useful to do, and that all things got done with grace and style. _Doing something wasn't enough_, she'd say. _You have to do it right too._

Sue also possessed another quality, and that was to make people do what she'd say. She used no magic or anything crude like threats or shouting, but she could end disputes seconds before weapons were drawn, persuade sick urchins to take bitter medicine smiling, and make nagging elders three times her age grow silent and contemplate themselves in shame. She was indispensable.

" How long will you be gone Mistress ?" Sue asked her, watching knowingly.

" Not long I think. Nothing to worry about. " Candle replied. She was used to Sue referring to her as Mistress, but only in public. Mistress, or Mistress Candle, was a stage name, reserved for the stage so to speak. In private, like now, Candle had not been expecting it and it surprised her somewhat.

" Yes. Nothing to worry about. " She said. There was a dark edge of sarcasm, barely faint in that voice. Something that said 'all you'll be doing is march right into another guild's territory, avoid them and the city's militia, take on a few hundred rabid mages, and be home in time for supper. Will fish and chips do for tonight ?'. Of course, she did not say any of those things. Candle almost wished she had.

" I'm well equipped, well supplied, and I'm not going alone. " Candle said, tossing her travel bags over her shoulder. She should have made Bob carry them. That stuff was heavy. But she couldn't just whip him out again now when Sue was watching her like that. It would have been… unprofessional. Instead, she hid the effort needed and walked out of her rooms, towards the stables, Sue following behind. " My home is your responsibility until I get back. The people here need you. Worry about them, not me. "

Sue said nothing, but Candle felt like she was shaking her head at her behind her back. The two of them stalked out into the corridor and went for the stables. Candle's room was at the heart of the underground labyrinth called the Warren underneath the city of Makar north-west of Baldur's Gate. It stretched over the hilly slopes and lower regions of northern mountains and was a well-established trade route between Neverwinter, Baldur's Gate and the south, on the knot of roads leading through the mountains. A perfect place for a Thieves' Guild ; small, remote, and yet, many merchants and travelers passed through on regular bases. Chloe's people made sure not to take too much though. Any rout could become unused if too many brigands frequented it.

The Warren had been a series of old catacombs, mostly collapsed and forgotten. Several earthquakes had made the tunnels unusable and dangerous, and thankfully, the city authorities still believed the tunnels hazardous and not accessible. Candle had changed that with her coming.

When she'd first arrived to town and set up shop, they resided in a warehouse in the southern side of town. As they grew in number, Candle had to find them a better place to stay and the underground tunnels were at hand. It had taken them the better part of the first year to clear up the path, to bring in support beams and make the place habitable. Several of her people died from cave-ins by the time it was done and a lot of her magic went into those efforts but they persevered. Anyone else would have turned back, but Candle was not anyone else, and there was nowhere else for her and her people to settle. They had started their work from the basement of the Three Stags inn and worked their way in a spider-webbed fashion until the Warrens spread out throughout most of the city. There were a lot more tunnels still waiting to be uncovered and construction works went on even today, but it was way better than what she could have hoped for. The Warren was huge, enough for all her people and more, and together they had made their home in it.

The tunnel Candle and Sue were pacing now was long and straight, leading to the stables. The walls were brown, rocky, but the floors were padded in wood planks and soft carpets. Candle's magic glow-rods were stuck on the walls serving as torches would, but without the flame. Air had to be brought in from the outside, which would have been a problem if they'd been relying on simple torches. Magic was better in this instance, a simple illumination spell fastened to a copper rod and jammed into a wall. The things produced an eerie greenish light but it was way better than being suffocated by fire down here. They also had access to an underground stream of fresh water, and she had recently made a deal with a certain goblin craftsman for a system of heating tubes and pipes to be laid throughout the place for the upcoming winter. The last one had been horribly cold this close to the mountains.

As Candle and sue walked, many of her people stood by in silence, watching her pass in respect. She had given them a home, a purpose. She had dragged them out of despair and into her embrace, giving them, their children and families, life and guidance. Most of them would have been dead if it wasn't for her. They were honored to follow her, every one of them, and she saw it in them. She saw their gratitude.

Chloe came from the opposite direction. She wore no armor – Kensai never did – but instead, just a light white blouse and blue trousers which shaped themselves perfectly against her long legs. Her two short swords were at her side, one a gift from her mother, the other a razor-sharp spectral brand, a living sword after a fashion. She had put her hair up in a long auburn tail which fell down her back and had added more paint to the tattoos on her face making her look even more dangerous if that was possible. Her other magical items were less varied than Candle's. Because she wore no armor, she relied on gauntlets, amulets and rings for magical blocks and so on. Her gauntlets were that of a master, her belt, a ring of hard metal which seemed like bronze, and boots that hastened her motion beyond what was humanly possible. In those boots she could run down a galloping horse. The rest of her gear was a potion case at her side, a pair of rings and a bejeweled amulet to ward off hostile magic.

Chloe's mother was a Goddess, much like Candel's father, except that Chloe's mom was a much more appealing Deity then a grizzly Lord of Murder. And while Candle no longer was a God-child, Chloe still was. She also had no idea what her destiny was, or why her Divine Mother ever decided to sire her, but that did not matter much to her. She lived her own life and was not burdened by her divine heritage, which was another thing Candle admired in her.

Right now though, she was simply beautiful. Excitement burned in her eyes, but there was also a shadow of worry. For Candle's safety, no doubt.

Candle came to her and kissed her softly. " Are you ready ?"

" Am I ever. " Chloe replied. " It'll be good to finally stretch my legs a bit. " She caught sight of Sue as she was taking Candle's bags from her. Thank the Gods for that, for Candle though she would have dropped the sacks in another few seconds. " I see you've packed everything you needed. " She said with a faint twitch of her lips, idly bouncing the sack up and down a few times. She was a lot stronger than Candle and those bags were no trouble for her.

" Let's just get going then. " Candle said. Mocking her, was she ? She should set her up with a snare to have her hanging from the nearest tree by her ankle. Who lacked in arms, exercised the brains, Puffgus always used to say.

That thought made her pause. She took a deep breath and spoke seriously. More darkly than she was used to. " Mistress Candle will depart for Athkathla, but it will be Immoen who will face the Cowl Wizards. "

Chloe looked back at her. " Are you sure that is wise ?" She said. " The less they know, the better. "

" I want them to know. " Immoen said. Immoen. After three years, it sounded almost strange saying that name out loud. The shadow of Bhaalspawns was still fresh in people's minds and she had buried her name shortly after she and Chloe had set off their own way. And now, it was time for bringing the old out of the closet again. " And if they had forgotten me, I will enjoy reminding them. "

* * *

Lazaruss :"_The next chapter should come sooner. Until then enjoy._"


	4. Chapter 2b The Journey South

Lazaruss :" _Remember that reviews are always welcome._ "

* * *

**Chapter 2.b ; The Journey South**

The stable was in fact a cave which led off to the mountain slopes close to a seldom used road. An illusion of an unbroken rocky wall curtained the entrance and a pair of guards stood at the sides. No need to take chances. The cave entrance was not very large – just enough to drive a medium sized wagon through, but the inside of the cave was huge in comparison. Long rows of stabled horses stood to either side, absently chewing hay within their feeding bags. They all came to attention when new people walked in. Cleaver beasts. Immoen liked horses. She always felt they were smarter than most people.

Moving along the lines, she picked out a dark-gray dun that would not stand out too much in a crowd, and Chloe chose a black mare with pale to white nose and ankles. Sue watched the pair of them as they strapped their travel bags to the saddles while grooms and stable boys bridled their mounts. Immoen was petting her dun and whispering to it soothingly, when Sue walked up to her :

" At least take some more people with you. " the other woman spoke softly, yet urgently. " You cannot hope to accomplish much on your own. Two of you against all of them ? It's suicide. "

" I know what I'm doing Sue. " Immoen spoke. " And I don't intend to rush at them head on. Do not worry. "

" This is an unnecessary risk, if I've ever seen one. By the Gods, think about the rest of us. What will we do if something happens to you ?"

Immoen took a deep soothing breath. Sue's heart was in the right place, but Immoen couldn't have her authority second guessed by anyone. It was bad way to run things. Even worse, Sue had sort of a point.

But that was irrelevant. Sue's words were aimed to inspire doubt and hesitation in her to make her reconsider. Well, Immoen had decided to go through with this and no amount of reconsidering would change her mind. But doubt and hesitation were still dangerous. They were her enemies, and enemies of anyone else who had a dangerous task ahead. If she'd allow herself to hesitate even for a moment, if she'd fail to act in the critical split-second, she had no illusions about how bad the outcome would be. Deviating from the plans, hesitating, doubting herself… she could afford none of it. Those were the enemies she had to deal with more delicately than even the Cowls. And Sue was not helping.

She gave the older woman a hard look and held her eyes until Sue averted them. " I have too much to do to explain every step of it, Sue. I have considered things carefully and waged the risks. Do as I've told you and it will be easier on all of us. "

Sue frowned defiantly, but nodded. Immoen took another deep breath. Now that she had made her point, it was time to smooth the scars. " For the past three years, you've watched me. You know who I am, used to be, and what I've done. Though I do not hold the essence of a dead god in my veins now, you've seen me handle matters few are capable of. "

She mounted her horse. " Besides, " she smiled. " I do not worry for my people with you around. I trust you Sue. Like a sister. " She tilted her head at her and spoke in a dry tone. " An insufferable big sister who gained a few pounds lately, with greasy hair and a twitchy eye. "

Sue gave her a flat look and crossed her arms. " And if you'd eat your greens more regularly, " she said equally dry " your behind wouldn't look like it's flapping over the edge of that saddle of yours. "

Immoen barked a laugh. " The point is, you should worry more about the Cowls then me. When I'm done with them, there won't be enough hankies in Feirun to dry all the tears they will weep. " And that alone would make this trip worthwhile. But… why did she feel like looking over her shoulder at the lower part of her back all of a sudden ? Surely it had nothing to do with Sue's remark. How odd.

Chloe lead her horse close by. " Sorry to interrupt your very mature conversation, " She said. " but time's a wasting. If this is an important discussion, we could bring Sue with us so the two of you can exchange some more wisdom along the way. I know I'd love to hear that. "

Immoen gave her a sidelong glance and without another word snapped her horse into a gallop, rushing past Chloe's mount, spooking the animal, making it rear a bit and having Chloe mutter a stunned curse word. She followed soon after Immoen and the two of them dashed off along the mountain path south.

* * *

For the most part, the journey was uneventful. Two women alone on the road tended to draw out brigands, so Immoen and Chloe had joined up with a caravan heading south for the better part of the trip. The graying old merchant Bill Gasel was ferrying mountain-goats' flees and carvings made from bones of knuckleheaded trout southward towards profitable markets. He was dressed in dull gray wool vest over a white shirt, heavy black trousers and an even heavier brown woolen hat. His hair was gray, he had a neat mustache, and was the driver of the leading wagon at the head of the caravan.

They approached him with the story of being a pair of mercenaries heading south after a job they did in Neverwinter and asking to travel along for the sake of greater numbers. He was skeptical up until the point where Chloe challenged one of his guards to a duel and quite literarily whipped the ground with him. For a while, the fellow was glaring at her and Chloe, but after Chloe started drinking with him and the rest of the company, hostilities died down.

On the first night, after they had settled by a small stream of fresh water, Master Gasel joined Immoen by her solitary fire. Chloe was off drinking with the mercenaries, and Immoen had been alone, staring at the flames and thinking. He offered her a mug of hot beer of all things, but she welcomed it all the same. " So if the two of you are guard for hire, how come you haven't tried to sell me your skills ?" He asked. By his voice, she knew he was a man who had seen his share of the world, more than most even.

Immoen smiled sweetly at him. He was suspecting they were spies planted by a band of brigands waiting for his caravan further down the road, and that she and Chloe were sent to sabotage his defenses from within. Clever of him to think of that. She could put his fears to rest easily enough, but a lifetime of mischief had branded her with some very bad habits. And besides, in her opinion, people never believed in the truth when given. It was much easier to tell them what they expected to hear. Or in this case, to let them stumble upon it.

" Lord Nasher's coffers had compensated our expenses for this trip. " she said, taking a sip of her mug. The thing was awful. It clearly demanded an acquired taste, but at least it was hot. " We have a steady working relationship with one of his vassals. But if word would reach Neverwinter that we had taken coin on the side, it could cancel our future employments there. Besides, " she spoke with another sip. " you couldn't afford us anyway. "

Master Gasel snorted drinking his own keg of warm mud. Err, beer. " I see. " He spoke, not convinced. " I've thought you've said that you had completed your duties for this person ?"

" Kind of. " she said, trying to sound clumsily, like after a major slip. " But don't ask who or where. Professional secrecy. "

" Surely, you can tell me something ?" He asked. The more information he could get out of her, the more easily would he be able to guess her true purpose. Or so he thought. " Consider it a favor returned for my hospitality. "

She eyed him, giving him her best suspicious look. " I can tell you one thing. " she said. " When me and Chloe reach our destination, the roads will become much safer for people in your profession. "

" How so ?"

" Well… " she glanced left and right as if to make sure no one is listening, then whispered : " … you know about the thieves' guild that's been causing problems in these parts for the past year or so ?" He nodded with a sour frown. Did one of her people 'do business' with him at some point ? Gods, now she felt bad for pouching that ring of his this morning. " It won't do so for much longer. "

His eyes sparkled slightly. " How ?"

She gestured with her hand to quiet him and then cleared her throat. " I've told you too much already. " she spoke annoyed and took another sip of the not-beer. " You just mind your tongue and help us do our job. And maybe we can all help each other. And don't mention any of this to Chloe. She'll lock me up and throw away the key if she'd even suspect. "

He eyed her with such a thoughtful look she found it hard to keep a straight face. Finally, he nodded and went to his wagons.

Immoen chuckled softly to herself. If you wanted to lie to a man who was suspicious of you, first you needed to tell him a dumb lie to make him even more suspicious. And then to guide him into figuring out on his own, the thing you wanted him to believe. By tomorrow morning, Master Gasel would at least suspect that the two of them were a part of a covert police operation for routing out the infamous Candle's Guild in a joined operation of Amn and Neverwinter. And once they leave him in good health, he will be convinced of that. Merchants were the best soil for planting roomers, and in a month, she expected the entire Amn to buzz with news of the demise of her guild, which would in turn increase the flow of merchants through her domain. People were precious like that.

She took another sip of her mug, frowned, than decided it was better used for putting out the fire. Chloe returned while the embers still glowed, a bit unsteady in her step. That alone meant she was drunk as a cork. After settling her in her blankets and cradling her head on her lap until she succumbed to drunken sleep, Immoen cuddled up beside her and fell asleep too.

Over the next week, nothing much changed. Gasel was still looking at them suspiciously, but he became more relaxed after no bandits turned up to jump him. Occasionally, his men would complain about lost trinkets, but everything would be found eventually, and in the oddest of places. Like the ring that Master Gasel had misplaced, that turned out in his left boot the next morning. Immoen and Chloe would spend their time chatting with the guards, playing cards and telling jokes. Now back on the road, Chloe's mood had surely improved, and Immoen could see why. She too shared that joy of freedom of the opened road and good company. After living under ground and hiding in shadows for so long, she had almost forgotten how it felt to step into the great outdoors.

The only bad thing about it was that Chloe was getting too carried away. She would get drunk every night and then she was not good for anything else, much less their private time together. Worse still, the guard Chloe had beaten up on their first day somehow got it into his head that he was in love with her, and had started courting his 'Warrior-Goddess'. Immoen slowly simmered for three whole days before finally cornering the idiot and giving him a peace of her mind. Chloe was probably going along with it on purpose, encouraging him to make her jealous, so she did not want to be too hard on him. Their talk started out fine, but it ended up with him being turned into a decidedly ugly squirrel for an hour or so. That had been enough to cool him off. A person could only take so much.

That night, while she was putting out the fire, tired of waiting for Chloe to pass out drunk in her arms again, Chloe appeared quite sober, freshly bathed and smelling like strawberries. Before Immoen could say anything, Chloe gave her a deep fruity kiss, bringing her down by the dying fire, and for the better part of the night, and the two of them got lost in sweet slow passion, falling asleep in each other's arms. After that, things got considerably better.

No bandits attacked the caravan though, and Immoen was somewhat disappointed. She was rather looking forward to her and Chloe saving Gasel's hide and adding more fuel to the roomers she would have him spread for her, but she supposed she'd have to settle for this. A few days after crossing the border into Amn, the two of them separated from Gasel and his group and continued west towards Athkatla. A day away from the city, they made one more nightly stop. Immoen took care of the horses and came to sit by an oak log with Chloe, who gently embraced her, holding her close. Together they sat like that, watching their small camp fire.

" You're afraid, aren't you ?" Chloe asked her softly. Immoen hesitated, then nodded. " I have never asked you. " Chloe resumed. " I've never wanted to know what they did to you. "

" I hate them. " Immoen whispered. " I… could not stop them. I was not strong enough. "

" Shush. " Chloe hugged her tighter. " You are strong now. We'll make them pay. "

" That's what I'm afraid of. " Immoen said. " I worry for the success of this… quest, yes. But I worry more for myself. " She looked at Chloe's deep blue eyes. " A part of me wants me to kill them. To torture them as they did me back at Spellhold. And I'm terrified of what it might do to me. What it might turn me into. "

" It won't. " Chloe said. " Not while I'm here. " She kissed her pink hair. " Tell me. "

Immoen sighed. " It was never about the corruption of magic. " she spoke slowly. " Magic on its own does not corrupt. The Cowls only use it as an excuse. They capture other mages for study and experimentation. To steal their secrets and make themselves stronger. "

" That's what they did to you ?" Chloe asked.

" Some. " Immoen shivered. The night seemed colder now. " Before they got captured, those people… the inmates… were sane. Some of them might have been a bit unbalanced, but they were healthy. And the Wardens at Spellhold used charms, potions and enchantments to drive them insane, to break their minds, make them easier to control. "

" So that was it. " Chloe spoke slowly. " That is what they did to you. "

Immoen nodded. " They tried. You have no idea how terrifying it was… the prospect of losing my very sanity… to feel it slipping further and further away each day… And with the experiments and the tests… I don't know how I've managed to hold on until… " She stopped, abruptly.

" … until Irenicus got free. " Chloe concluded for her. She hugged her and kissed her softly. " Vengeance won't change you Immoen. " she said. " because that is not the reason you are doing this. " Immoen looked up at her. " What the Cowl Wizards do is an abomination. This quest isn't about you. It's about righting this very great wrong. Keep that in mind and you won't have to worry. "

Immoen curdled up to her more closely. " Thank you. " she whispered.

" Don't mention it. " Chloe said. She was so warm and comforting. " But I do hope you have a good plan in that pink head of yours. I don't intend to start an all-out war against those dogs. "

Immoen did not respond, but for a brief moment she smiled wickedly, and pulled the blanket over them, tucking them in together.

* * *

Lazaruss :" _So much for now._ "


End file.
